


Time's Fucking Weird, Man

by miladiel



Category: Russian Doll (TV 2019), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Death, College Student Eren Yeager, Crossover, Drugs, Eren Yeager & Historia Reiss solidarity, Eren Yeager Has Tongue Piercings, Eren Yeager Has a Manbun, F/M, Fast Food, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, I apologise, Jean Kirstein & Eren Yeager Friendship, Not Beta Read, Party, Partying, Reader-Insert, Russian Doll Crossover, Stoner Eren Yeager, Time Loop, but it's just you dying over and over, just lowkey, this feels like a coming of age movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miladiel/pseuds/miladiel
Summary: You stare at your own reflection. There’s lipstick on your cheek and you let out a groan. “Not again.”You're stuck in a time loop triggered by your own death. You really want to get out.Or: the Russian Doll x Attack on Titan crossover really no one asked for
Relationships: Eren Yeager & Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader
Kudos: 19





	Time's Fucking Weird, Man

**Author's Note:**

> this is not beta read, not edited, and barely skimmed through so proceed with caution lmao–  
> I still hope you enjoy, this silly little story is a lot of fun to write so I thought I'd share it :))

You stare at your own reflection. There’s lipstick on your cheek and the faint sound of too many people screaming over way too loud music. Weed and alcohol block your nose, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s from other people or yourself. 

Someone knocks on the bathroom door for the third time, cursing and yelling at you to finally get out. 

“Shit– Coming!” You wipe the back of your hand over your face, trying to get the lipstick off. _Who even put it there?_

Hastily, you open the door and stumble past the young woman in front of it, muttering an apology. She glares at you, but you spend no time taking her appearance in, too busy battling your own dizziness. 

Avoiding sharp elbows and stomping feet, you make your way through a crowd of sweaty, drunk college students. Laughter and heavy bass assault your eardrums until you want to punch the next person shouting something directly in your ear. 

Someone calls your name and you turn around, not sure if you’re just fucking hammered or actually being adressed. You hear your name again and you follow the direction of the sound, almost desperately pushing people blocking your way to the sides. 

You’re pretty sure someone throws a ‘bitch’ at you but you ignore it, too focused on finding your guardian angel calling your name for a third time. 

A hand reaches out to you and a face blocks your vision, and at this point you’re convinced it’s some kind of magical being taking your soul with them, before familiar blue eyes and blonde hair let your shoulders relax. “Armin,” you sigh, relieved. Despite not knowing him very well, Armin and you get along pretty well on the few occasions you bump into each other. He’s smart and kind and actually has some goddamn manners. “Thank God you exist.” 

“Hey,” he says and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “You okay? You look…” 

“Like shit?” You fill in. “I know. Do you know how I got here?” 

Armin shoots you a puzzled look. “Uh– Not really? Hitch said you came here with her. And she wanted me to tell you she left like ten minutes ago with some guy.”

Right. Hitch. Your roommate. And friend. 

“Good for her,” you say before shaking your head. “I’m probably just fucking drunk. And stoned. I think I smoked weed?” 

“Do you want some water to sober up?” Armin asks with a small smile. It looked more concerned than anything else. 

“Yeah that would be nice.” You lean against the kitchen counter and take a deep breath. The music’s starting to give you a headache, hot air and smoke creating something so disgusting to inhale it makes you cough. 

It takes Armin less than a minute to push a glass into your hands, a red cup in his own. “Thanks,” you say and take a sip, letting the water cool your throat. “What exactly are we here for, anyway?”

“It’s the end of the semester– Are you sure you’re alright? Do you want me to get you home?” He tilts his head with a frown forming on his face. 

You make a dismissive gesture. “I can still stand, so I’m good. Thanks, though.” 

Armin studies you for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. “Alright, then. But tell me when you wanna go home.”

“Okay, chivalry isn’t dead, I get it, you proved your point.” You roll your eyes with a smile and take another sip. 

He looks down, almost embarrassed. “Just saying…”

“Anyway,” you change topics, “aren’t you here with friends?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m not really sure where they are right now. I’ve last seen Jean and Mikasa trying to stop Sasha from eating all the snacks, I think?”

You purse your lips. “Have I met them before?”

“I don’t think so.” Armin shrugs. “You’re gender studies, right?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Then you’re in a whole different building than them, Mikasa and Jean are both engineering majors and Sasha’s culinary.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Damn. How are they alive?”

“Bold of you to assume they are.”

“My bad,” you mumble and knock back the rest of your water. 

“You want more?” 

You shake your head. “I’m good for now, thanks. Listen, I’m gonna go and try to find some more people I know, alright? I’m already here so… I might as well make something out of it.” 

Armin gives you a nod. “Sure, go have fun. I’m around if you need me. You got my number?”

Pushing yourself away from the kitchen counter, you smile. “Yup. See you later.” With a last small wave, you set the glass down and make your way through the crowd, looking for friends or at least people you knew from your classes, a lot calmer this time. There are still huge chunks of your memory missing, from how you got here to what day it is, but you try and ignore that for now. This is a party and parties are supposed to be fun. They‘re not a good place to start questioning one‘s own existence and what exactly you‘ve been up to for the last… Wait for how long have you been here, anyway? 

“Hi.” 

Stumbling backwards, you put a hand over your chest. “Jesus fucking Christ– Pieck!” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Pieck, yellow eyes and hooked nose, smiles apologetically. Her dark hair is in a low ponytail, a few loose strands tucked behind her ears. She’s wearing a green skirt with a fitting black top, completed by fragile looking necklaces. You know Pieck through Hitch and her friends and hang out with her sometimes, especially when you need someone to study with. “You looked a little lost,” she says in that tranquil voice of hers that could calm everything from volcanoes to thunderstorms. “We want to play some games, do you want to join?” 

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

“You’ll see.” 

You blink. “Seriously?”

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun.” Pieck holds out her hand for you to take it. “They don’t bite, I promise,” she adds with a wink. 

“Oh, fuck off.” You put your hand in hers, though not without flipping her off with your other one. 

Wasting no time, she pulls you through a wide living room and small hallway until you’re standing in what looks like a guest bedroom with several people spread over the floor and bed. Red and white lights obscure bodies and furniture, making it somewhat hard to distinguish between the two. 

Two people are smoking, one’s a woman sitting on the bed with short chestnut hair and freckles over her cheeks and nose. She’s having an arm around a much smaller woman with huge blue eyes and blonde hair in a low knot. She could easily pass as Armin’s sister. The second smoker, definitely enjoying a blunt, is talking to the blonde girl, tall with dark brown hair he had tied back in a messy bun at the back of his head. 

Pieck closes the door quietly, cutting off the rest of the party until you could hear soft music playing, more serving as background than an entertainment tool. Several heads turn to you two and you wave awkwardly. 

“Who’s that?” The woman with the brown hair asks, scanning you through narrow eyes. 

Pieck introduces you and you mutter a few _hi_ ’s and _hello_ 's, not entirely sure what to do with yourself. 

“What’s your major?” Someone on the floor asks, light brown hair in a mullet and an attempt at a beard on his chin. 

“Gender studies,” you reply, thankful for the easy in awkward tension. It earns you a few snickers and an off-handed _could’ve just said you’re wasting your money_. 

“Hey,” the blonde girl interrupts them with surprising authority. “Be nice, will you?” She turns to you with a smile, gentle and bright and you can’t help but mirror her. “I’m Historia. This,” she points at the woman chained to her side, “is Ymir, my girlfriend.” Historia gives the guy with the blunt a playful smack on his shoulder. “That’s Eren.” 

Eren turns his head to you so you can finally see his face, followed by a wave. He has bright teal eyes, the colour almost unnaturally highlighted by the red around them. Something about his look is passive, uninterested and almost apathetic. There are bruises and scratches on his face and hands, like he had been in a fight. You notice a chain around his neck, something like a key attached to it, falling over the green shirt he’s wearing, lazily tucked into a pair of light jeans. 

“The asshole on the floor’s Jean.” The name pulls you out of your staring, eyes shooting to the guy with the mullet giving you a small smile. 

“You’re friends with Armin,” you blurt out. 

“You know Armin?” That’s Eren. He looks at you, eyes wide and intense and you feel like hiding behind Pieck.

“I mean, not really? We meet from time to time. He just mentioned Jean and two others earlier.”

Eren leans back and takes another puff from his blunt. “He’s one of my childhood friends,” he explains. The smoke he exhales creates little clouds dancing through the colourful lights. You’re pretty sure you’re getting so much second hand smoke from that alone it gets you higher than you – probably – already are. Not that you can be an accurate judge, considering you still have no clue what you had been up to until you found yourself staring at a mirror with lipstick on your cheek. 

“Oh,” is all you have to add to the conversation. 

“Alright, how about you find a place to sit and we start with–”

“Truth or Dare,” Jean interrupts Pieck. You hear several annoyed groans and a _dude, we’re not in fucking middle school_. 

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” Jean says as you make your way across the room. The windowsill was free, and the sensation of fresh air against your too hot skin in a fuggy room sounds like heaven. You open the window before placing yourself on the ledge in front of it and inhale, letting the night air fill your lungs and clear your head. 

“I’ll start,” Historia volunteers and turns her head around. She calls your name and you almost jump. 

“Wait, why me–”

“You’re new,” she shrugs. “Truth or dare?”

You sigh and hug your knees. “Truth.” 

“When was the last time you cried?”

“This morning,” you say without hesitation and startle yourself with it. “Over this stupid response paper I had to hand in.” You let out a small laugh, despite not having any idea if you actually did that. “It was about one of Virginia Woolf’s essays. ‘A Room of One’s Own’. Do you know it?” 

“I do,” Eren chimes in. “‘Lock up your libraries, if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind _’_ , isn’t it?” 

Three pairs of eyes stare at him in surprise. 

“You read it?” You ask, astonished. 

“ _You can read_?” Jean adds and earns himself a smack upside the head. 

Eren rolls his eyes. “Historia made me read it, asshole.” 

“Well, someone had to make sure you don’t end up as an incel.” She pokes his cheek.

“And you took care of it beautifully.” 

Jean clears his throat. “Alright, let’s get back to the game.” He gives you a nod. “It’s your turn.” 

“Eren,” you say while he finishes his blunt. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” He doesn’t bother looking at you. 

“Worst pain you’ve ever been in.”

He snorts. “You a sadist or something? When I snapped my shin and dislocated my ankle at the same time.” 

You scrunch up your face. “Jesus– How the fuck did you manage to do that?” 

“I’m a skater,” he shrugs. “And athlete. Shit happens.”

From that point on, it was easy: Eren chose Ymir who did the first dare with having to eat a raw egg, Ymir picked Pieck, Pieck Jean, Jean Historia and back to you. 

Five rounds and three shots later, you lean back and stretch out your legs. It’s freezing outside by now, and the room temperature has cooled down noticeably over the past thirty minutes. 

You turn your body and set a hand on the window, trying to turn around as carefully as possible. 

On your knees, you lean forward and grab the frame to push it down. 

Someone calls your name from behind, telling you to be careful. But you just click your tongue, dizzy mind determined to close this goddamn window. “Come on,” you mutter with a frown. 

There’s a moment of struggle, clumsy fingers clasped around wood, but then you slip and you hear the shocked gasps as you fall forward, cold wind suddenly around you and you fall, fall down and down until the ground is the last thing you see, until bones in your body crush and blood spills and–

You stare at your own reflection. There’s lipstick on your cheek and someone yells at you to let them in. 

You touch four face, knowing there should’ve been a lot more red and a lot less unbroken bones, _knowing_ that you just– 

You were– 

This was–

“What the fuck.”

  
  



End file.
